


million reasons why

by anchors (harbingers)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, M/M, mention of body worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:28:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27652051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harbingers/pseuds/anchors
Summary: The submissive curve of Seokmin’s back burns along the morning sun and that’s when Minghao feels alive.
Relationships: Lee Seokmin | DK/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	million reasons why

Minghao stirs awake, and his first thought is to go back to sleep. He considers, and weighs his choices as the sun slips through the curtains of their apartment and he launches his side facing in the direction against the desperate, pouring sunlight that grazes harshly on his eyelids. He attempts to swipe at the table in search of his glasses but fails as he’s stopped with the heavy weight of another body at his side. Ah, and he suddenly remembers that he wasn’t alone. 

After successfully reaching over, he scrambles to slip his glasses on his nose and winces as Minghao is taken back by the drawing sunlight tucked in their bedroom. It’s memorizing, and maybe he could hold it between his palms and timidly capture it inside a glass jar as the bitter parts begin to melt like wax on scorching flesh. 

And suddenly, his fingers ache for the camera burrowed inside his bag at the foot of his bed. _Take a picture,_ the raging tips of his hands scream, _it’ll last longer_. That’s the teasing, crawling voice of another figure that drenches his inner soul. Maybe he will listen. He realizes that it’s a weekend, and there was no need to truly be awake at his hour, and so Minghao considers. He continues to consider as dawn forges a path in between the buildings of the quiet city, perhaps if he tried hard enough he could lose himself in the process. 

“Myungho,” 

The sun breaks a parting in the welts of bed, sleeping and sitting back as Minghao turns next to him and meets the eyes of a smile so gentle that he almost wants nothing more but to commit arson (maybe Seungkwan’s intruding thought process was catching up to him). Seokmin winks his eyes open slowly, rustling over the sheet to turn completely in Minghao’s direction. 

Awful, he bitterly thinks as he’s desperate swallow him whole as he lays there like an acrylic painting propped up in a museum for his leisurely pleasures. The submissive curve of Seokmin’s back burns along the morning sun and that’s when Minghao feels alive. “You’re awake,” and he frowns a little while leaning a perplexed elbow against the comfort of his pillow. “It’s barely the morning, go back to sleep.” 

Seokmin smiles along the crease of his pillow, a dimple from the wince of the sun as it fights back and Minghao suppresses the urge to kiss him-- glasses, slow and steady and in the comfort of their bed. “I didn't realize it was so early.” he whispers, voice deepened and Minghao should probably bite his first in the moment as Seokmin turns again as the sheet grazes past his skin like a slip. 

It falls like a barrier, surfacing his skin, a golden, gentle fleece glistening like sapphires under the swells that build the curve of his muscles. Minghao smiles lazily, readjusting his glasses. “Fuck,” the words tumble out as Seokmin lifts a brow, “you’re beautiful.” 

Seokmin rolls over, reaching for Minghao’s waist in the process as he rolls over and stares into the rich milky way of complexity and hazel jewels dug into the carmelized mines burrowed six feet beneath his heart. He laughs, lips hovering hesitantly. “Be quiet.” he mumbles, heat rushing to his cheeks as Minghao can’t help but giggle into the kiss when they finally meet halfway. 

And suddenly, they’re both silent. Quiet wakes in the morning sunrise as dawn is a figment of imagination dancing along Seokmin’s naked back that Minghao traces it like a puzzle. Silent, desperate, and hungry awakens and grows unruly. 

*

To how many reasons can you think of? To how well does they coincide with desire, pent up and free flowing with the power to bent to his will. A million reasons why Minghao loves, honestly he’s not sure how he fell in love. It’s cruel tempered and lathered in beastly repertoire, but gentle because there is such devastation. Devastation embodies a boy, who wears the sun on his sleeve, and twice fooled he strikes Minghao. Seokmin is soft-spoken in his appearance, gentle and clairvoyant when he speaks and laughs as it circumferences the entails of Minghao’s heart. The chambers soon grow untended and begin to wilt. 

“I heard, if you take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Seokmin teases and Minghao snaps awake. A loose smile, never rung out at least in Minghao’s presence and curling back the grooves maintaining the steel chambers of his heart. 

He lifts his cappuccino cup, taking a short ship. “I had no idea, I ought to try it out sometime.” Minghao replies dryly as Seokmin sticks his tongue out in rebuttal. 

But then he pauses, and takes in how greedy his jaw draws blood against his turtleneck, or the bridge of his nose can slice heart-shaped promises into ribbons neatly tied into bows. Or how the smile shines in Minghao’s direction while he takes a bit out of the cake on his plate, blinding and ugly when repricated inside of him. _Breathtaking._ “You should take more photos Myungho,” Seokmin complains, as Minghao holds the camera to adjust the lenses. 

“I’m certain half of my camera roll is filled with you.” He points out. 

“An honor then,” Seokmin answers cheekily before turning to his piece of cake. He turns an experimental hand through his hair which has been pulled back before twitching his nose at the discomfort when strands tumble past his eyes. 

Minghao does something impulse-- he tucks a strand behind Seokmin’s ear hastily and his eyes widen at the gesture. “Your hair is getting long.” he murmurs. 

“Yours is too.” Seokmin says, warmth spreading against his cheek as he rests against his hand for a second. 

_A million reasons why?_ It would be better if he asked a million reasons why not? 

*

Minghao is not a man of insanity, but simple-minded in his sharp words and domesticated gestures that have been ritualized throughout his experience of living with him. It’s not difficult to adjust, he learns and repeats the mistakes. And sometimes when he’s coveting the hunger that breaks him apart he finds solace in the sun whether it whispers its last words before the night roars at dusk or when he’s stuck in the time loop of waking up to Seokmin’s side. Either way, he’s merciful to either possibility. 

He waits, because he is patient in the way that he could cry out his last breath when he kisses Seokmin in the discomfort of their apartment door, as alcohol rushes past his lungs. Or when he moans, honey between the chipped away bone of his clavicle and pulls back at the nape of his neck tenderly. Always careful, never too harsh unless permitted. “For the love of god, kiss me.” Seokmin demands tonight. He snorts almost, through the kiss. But stops as the hunger is painful and he lifts him even closer as if not even the Midas’s touch could heal his lustful soul. 

“I want you.” He hesitates, at the tip of his tongue and Minghao stares at the heavy lidded eyes stirring and forever becoming a catalyst. “I want you so much.” He says in the crook of Seokmin’s neck. 

Truly, a heartbreaking smile, “then have me, all of me.” 

And so, there it grows like that. He fits well, kissing him miserably, when he moans again as harshly this time tips his head back and Seokmin whimpers before he goes in for the kill. He wants to tell him that he’s driving him crazy, he wants to kiss him, again and again until his lips are raw. Minghao slowly trails away from his neck, as he brushes over the curves of his thick, soft fingers, he takes his time and burns in return. Worship builds a sand temple in his home that plays like the violin and maybe the heart is the home and those are the millions why he loves. Ugly, gentle and rough when he gives what he can’t have. 

And so he, he cries a whisper of sacred beginnings and Minghao heeds to the call. Love has no reason, especially when it drives you mad. Let him meet the tip of the iceberg, and see what happens. 

*

(Minghao wakes up first. And there, burning in the pot of sunlight cascading between the crook of Seokmin’s broad shoulders, he sleeps. He feels alive, and the dream restarts. “Good morning.” he begins). 

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are appreciated!!
> 
> [twt](https://mobile.twitter.com/gossamers__)


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